


Revas

by dinosaurdragon



Series: Missing Moments from TWotS [11]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Dalish Elven Culture and Customs, Friendship, Gen, How a Ranger Becomes a Ranger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 10:57:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7046611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dinosaurdragon/pseuds/dinosaurdragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mheganni saves an owl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Revas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CelticxPanda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelticxPanda/gifts).



> Takes place mostly between ch 10 & 11 of Kirkwall, in approximately 9:31 Dragon.

Mheganni did not intend for this to happen. She would like for that to be known.

There are many things for which this is true, of course. She did not intend to fall in love with Tamlen, did not intend to let him and Theron start that hunt without her, did not intend to allow Theron to leave the clan without her, did not intend to let Merrill leave, did not intend for so much of her life to have spun beyond her control. But the universe, it would seem, had many other ideas, and enjoyed making her its plaything.

(Or, she thought with no small amount of trepidation, perhaps the Dread Wolf had simply taken a personal amusement in torturing her.)

But all of those things had ultimately been out of her control. This one, somehow, felt like it should have been well within her control.

It wasn’t.

Mheganni had saved an owl. She’d done so because it was the right thing to do; one could not eat an owl, not really, and even if one did, there is little use for the rest of it. A waste. Even nugs could be used in their entirety. So, when she’d found this particular owl—a large one, but young, going by its plumage—caught in one of the clan’s traps with a broken wing, she took it in.

She almost thought it was a terrible idea, when she ran into Vir’era and his mabari on the way back to camp. That mage seemed to bring nothing but bad news, always taking someone from her. Well, no, not always. He’d taken Theron, and he’d led Merrill, but he’d brought letters and Feynriel, too. Maybe he wasn’t the horrible person she almost wanted him to be—maybe he was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. It might even be a relief. She didn’t like hating people.

When her shifting movements strained the owl’s broken wing, she murmured quietly to it and stroked its feathers as soothingly as she could. “Vir’era,” she said, looking to the Warden in question. “Do you have more letters?”

He shook his head, and she frowned. “No. I… I have not yet returned to the city.”

“Then why are you here?” Mheganni wouldn’t deny a mild sense of irritation. Vir’era had only come to the clan with deliveries since leading Merrill away. What other reason would he have to be here? The owl’s feathers were smooth to the touch. She did not stop petting it, as much for her own comfort as to keep it calm.

“Edelweiss needs a home.” Before she could ask him what he meant—who was Edelweiss? Some other lost soul he expected the clan to care for, like Feynriel?—he turned and gestured behind him, where the most beautiful halla she’d ever seen stood tall. Mheganni found herself speechless.

Vir’era knew, she was certain, that Clan Sabrae’s halla had all died. Most didn’t make it during the trip across the sea; the rest died of sickness or loneliness soon after. It was not pure coincidence that he would bring them a beautiful young halla, she believed that. And this halla, with her pure white coat, was certainly young, her horns not even a full length yet. “I can’t keep her in Darktown. She… Nathaniel said she insisted on coming to me. I-I was hoping that Clan Sabrae might be willing to take her in. I know your halla are all…”

Mheganni turned to stare at Vir’era now. His eyes were large and open wide, and she thought they looked honest. Maybe a little sad, too. Something was hiding behind his lashes that she could not figure out, and wasn’t sure she wanted to. To avoid saying these things, she nodded, just once. “The Keeper will be pleased,” she said, and her voice came out steady as ever. “Follow me.”

She didn’t think he would really need to be led, not with how close they were to the camp and how many times he’d come by now, but she asked it of him anyway. Fenarel waved at her as they passed, and she nodded in response, unable to move her hands with her burden.

She would have led him all the way to the Keeper, but the owl in her arms needed attention far more than Vir’era needed watching. So, when they had reached the outermost aravels of the camp, she sent him on ahead, pointing out which direction the Keeper was. He was surprised, she could see, but he didn’t question her, and even thanked her for it.

She nodded to him again, thinking this was perhaps the first time they’d had so much interaction in such a positive way, and turned around quickly. Her family’s aravel was back the way they’d came and to the east a bit, with a few others in a smaller clearing. She had everything she needed to care for the owl there.

And she did. Care for the owl, that is. She helped him (for it was a him, she learned) to eat and hunt while he was healing, and she kept him safe while he could not defend himself. He went anywhere she did, insisting almost violently that he not be separated from her. And it was fine, really. He was a wild animal, she reasoned. It made sense that he would only want to be with the one he knew to be helping him.

But then he refused to leave.

He became hale and whole again. She sent him off in a clearing and watched him disappear over the treetops. It was a little bittersweet, but this was hardly the first time she had helped a creature back to health. She was apprenticed to the halla keeper, after all, and had often spent entire days in the pens with sick halla. Their deaths crossing the sea had hurt her very badly.

She didn’t linger in the clearing for the owl. She hadn’t expected him to come back, and she would have felt silly standing around waiting for it. So she returned instead to her family’s aravel and began helping her sister prepare the night’s meal. It was going very well until a vole carcass fell from the sky and into the pot.

Ellana screamed. Mheganni shouted. Hot stew flew around at dangerous speeds. The vole’s dead eyes stared blankly up at the sky, reflecting an image of the culprit.

The owl.

The owl that Mheganni had saved swooped down and perched on a small wooden bench, tilting his head at her. He glanced at the ruined stew, then back at Mheganni, who was dumbstruck, and let out a little trilling hoot.

“By Andruil’s bow,” Ellana muttered around a finger that had been caught and burned in the spray. “Mheganni, I thought he left!”

“He did!” Mheganni said. “I took him down the mountain and set him flying. He left, and I came back to help!”

“And now he’s back, too.” Her sister glanced at the pot and wrinkled her nose. “I think he was trying to help, but I don’t want to eat that anymore.”

Mheganni cringed. “No, me either. I’ll… try sending him off again, I think.”

“Talk to the Keeper first,” Ellana advised. “This could be a blessing, you know.”

Certainly, it could. It had happened before, in tales of the Creators, but the Creators were gone, now. Only the Dread Wolf remained, and he was as likely to bite you as help. Though… if this bird was a blessing from him, she’d be a fool to refuse. She heaved a great sigh and brushed away the worst of the stew’s spill from her clothing. “Come along, then,” she said to the owl. He came happily up to rest on her forearm when she offered it.

His talons were rather sharp without gloves to dull their contact, and she regretted the choice as she walked to the center of camp, where the Keeper would be. She saw no sign of Vir’era, though the halla (Edelweiss, such a shem name) he’d brought stood by Marethari’s side, watching the camp with what seemed to be pure delight, as she often did when he visited. Mheganni nodded to the old woman, and said, “Keeper, I’ve a question.”

“Speak your mind, Mheganni,” Marethari answered, waving the young woman closer. Her eyes did not miss the bird, and she asked, “Does this concern your ward?”

“It does, Keeper.” Mheganni reached her free hand to pet the owl’s plumage, and he pressed ever so slightly into her touch. “He’s healthy now, but when I took him to a clearing to let him be free, he returned to my aravel with—ah.” She paused, unsure if details were necessary. “With a… gift.”

Marethari’s eyes crinkled. “Food, I would guess, which he dropped into your pot?” If she weren’t accustomed to the Keeper’s seeming omniscience, she might be concerned. But Mheganni was also fully aware that the Keeper was a wise woman, and that she herself was still somewhat covered in stains from the spilled stew.

“Yes, Keeper,” she answered. The arm the owl was resting on was growing heavy, but she did not dare move it yet. “Ellana said he may be a blessing, and I don’t know what to do with him. Should I set him free again?”

“A good question indeed.” Marethari looked closely at the bird. He was a large one, with two tall tufts that looked almost like ears at the top of his head. “Has he a name?”

“No. At least, I have not given him one.”

The Keeper hummed. “Take him to the clearing once more and send him to fly. Wait an hour there. If he returns, then he is yours, by either his own will or that of the gods—and neither should be disrespected.”

“Thank you, Keeper. I will.” The owl hooted a little when she jostled him as she bowed, but did not leave his perch. The Keeper’s advice was sound; it was entirely possible that the vole, however unwanted, had simply been intended as repayment. Birds were quite smart, she knew. They understood things like returning a favor.

So she took the owl to the clearing and helped him to launch into flight again. The sun was low in the sky, and it would be near dark in an hour’s time; she vowed not to stay in that clearing past sunset.

Ten minutes passed, and she was unsurprised that he had not returned to her. She busied herself with making flower chains the way Merrill had taught her. After twenty minutes, she’d butchered two chains on accident, and left them out for some forest creature to snack on later. After a half hour, she’d made one acceptable flower crown, but was certain she could do better, and she wanted to make something to apologize to Ellana for the ruined dinner.

When forty-five minutes had come and gone, and she held in her hands a flower crown of Ellana’s favorite mountain flowers, she was almost ready to simply call it quits. However, it had not yet been an hour, and while it might not be so necessary that she wait specifically that length of time, she also wanted to be entirely certain. It would be terrible if she returned to camp only for the owl to ruin yet another dinner.

But the setting sun began to dye the sky in brilliant hues, and her ward had not returned. She sighed, disappointed, and stood. When she turned around, though—“Oh!”

Perched on a branch nearby, sitting calmly but watching her with great interest, was the owl. Mheganni narrowed her eyes at him. “And how long have you been sitting there?” she asked. He cocked his head. “I was waiting for you! It’s common decency to alert people of your presence.”

He hopped down the branch and onto her shoulder to nip at her ear, hooting right into it. She squeaked and jumped, but he held fast to her shoulder. “Don’t do that! It hurt, bird!”

The owl, rather as she’d expected, said nothing in response. As she walked back to her aravel, she glanced from the corner of her eye at the majestic creature. “You need a name,” she decided. “I can’t simply keep calling you ‘bird’ or ‘owl.’ It would be rude.”

He trilled softly.

“What about… Sulahn?” No response. “Mm, no, perhaps not. Theron?” He shifted this time, scooting down her shoulder. “Oh, alright, but that isn’t a bad name, you know. My best friend in the world is named Theron.” He remained unimpressed. Perhaps he was picky, and wanted something that suited an owl more. “One more try, and if you don’t like this one, I’m giving up,” she warned, mostly because she thought she had better taste in names than he did. “What do you think of Revas?”

The owl trilled. “Revas?” she tried again. He hooted this time. “Well, that’s decided then. Your name is Revas. Glad we could come to an agreement.”

Revas hooted, which she took for a sound of delight, and they went together to apologize to Ellana.


End file.
